


Potions

by eschatologies



Series: Harry Potter snippets [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Reluctant Friendship, Snape is not a bad man, Werewolves, Wolfsbane, because I've chosen to ignore canon, potion experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:27:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2255868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eschatologies/pseuds/eschatologies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Prisoner of Azkaban, Snape provides the Wolfsbane potion for his colleague Professor Lupin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Potions

**Author's Note:**

> I found this ficlet hiding in my writing folder from my first computer. I believe it was composed circa 2006. It is unfinished and I have no idea where 17 year old me intended to take this. But clearly I trusted Snape (or trusted that JKR wouldn't ruin him, same difference).

**September 3, 1993**

“Do you require anything else?”

Remus Lupin, the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, could have sworn the door to his office had been shut, and locked. Now as he peered around stacks of half-emptied boxes and crates in the veritable disaster zone that was his new office, he caught sight of dark robes, dark hair, and a hooked nose. He hadn’t even heard the man enter his office. 

“I’m sorry?”

“I said, do you require anything else? I haven’t got all day.”

Extracting himself from the mess of books he had been arranging onto shelves behind his desk, Remus reached out to accept the proffered goblet of steaming potion. He grimaced as he inhaled the swirling vapors rising from the cup, and then set it heavily onto his desk. Wolfsbane.

“No, thank you, Severus. You’ve done more than enough already.”

Snape caught the other man’s eye. “Don’t add anything to it.”

Feeling like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Remus started. “What? I wasn’t…”

“No sugar, no milk, and no lemon. It is not supposed to taste good, Lupin. It is designed to prevent you from devouring children during the night, though I can think of a dozen more effective ways of keeping you detained that don’t require hours of my time. The Headmaster, however, has requested something a little more…humane.” Snape said, dryly. “The potion is perfect; don’t add anything to it.”

Remus held up his hands in surrender, and smiled sadly. “No additions, I’ve got it. I’ll survive.”

“Pity,” came the smirked reply, and then Snape was gone in a swish of black cloak. 

Remus, returning to his work, cleared a stack of parchment off his chair. “I should have eaten you when I had the chance,” he mumbled after the Potions professor.

 

**December 7, 1993**

It took a couple months for Remus to adjust to life at Hogwarts after 15 years of separation. It might have taken him less time, he supposed, had he been returning to the school as a student and not an old man with graying hair, a (hopefully) intriguing limp, and an assortment of fraying sweater vests and patched robes. He felt fairly comfortable responding to Professor Lupin, though he couldn’t shake the nostalgic longing for someone to call out, “Hey, Moony, wait up!” as he left his classroom. 

There was nothing like being back at school that forced Remus’ mind to dwell on the past, and it was exceedingly frustrating. True, it had taken years for Remus to come to terms with losing James, Lily, Sirius and Peter in a single blow. But the fact was that he had come to terms, years ago. Having his memories unearthed again was jarring, and probably the main reason he’d initially told Dumbledore he wouldn’t accept the teaching position. 

Nevertheless, he had eventually accepted and here he was, preparing a lesson plan for his sixth years in the dim light of his office. His notes were spread haphazardly across the majority of his desk, and more piles of parchment surrounded his chair. 

There was a sharp knock on the door, and before Remus had a chance to call, “Come in!” the door swung open, and Professor Snape sourly stepped inside.

“Really, I thought people like you were supposed to be tidy,” drawled Snape as his eyes surveyed the office and landed on the mess of parchment suffocating the desk underneath. He didn’t suppress his disdain. 

“Good evening, Severus,” Remus replied. “Thank you for bringing the Wolfsbane, I would have stopped by the dungeons earlier, but there was an altercation in my last class between Montague and another fourth year that –”

“And while I am sure the end of that story is fascinating, I do have other business to attend to.” Snape placed the goblet on top of what appeared to be the most structurally stable stack of papers. 

Remus glared up at Snape, too tired to continue with professional courtesy. “Well, d…do you require anything else?” 

Remus though he saw the very corner of Snape’s mouth twitch upward, but the other man turned so quickly that Remus couldn’t be sure. Snape swept out of the room muttering something that sounded like, “50 points from Gryffindor for stuttering.” 

 

**January 7, 1994**

Waking up on the floor was a sensation one never got completely used to. The potion helped; at least Remus was able to remember why he was on the floor, and why he wasn’t wearing any clothes, but the initial disorientation was still nauseating. 

On this particular morning, Remus woke up shivering. His first instinct was to curl into himself and fall back asleep, but this was only a temporary solution and reason told Remus he’d need to crawl into bed. He waited for the spinning to subside before opening his eyes. 

It took a good five minutes for Remus to reach the bed, and another two to wrestle himself into a pair of loose cotton pajama bottoms he had laid out the night before. He was contemplating how to hoist himself up onto the four-poster, while simultaneously cursing himself for forgetting to lower the bed after last month’s similar logistical problems, when someone rapped on the door.

Remus closed his eyes and groaned. Professor McGonagall had said she would pick up the lesson plans for his second years, but she was incredibly early. The winter sun had barely risen, sending streaks of light dazzling through the boughs of the dew-dampened trees outside the window. 

“Just a moment, Minerva!” he rasped out, but the door opened before he finished.

The voice that spoke was not Professor McGonagall’s familiar Scottish timbre. “Instructing Longbottom to imagine me dressed as our Transfiguration Professor now, are we?” The door behind Snape clicked softly closed, and Remus heard the man turn and stride into the room.

Remus breathed out heavily, and continued with his efforts, ignoring the sallow-skinned man invading his chamber. The blanket Remus had been pulling on untucked itself, and the force of the loose handhold threw Remus back onto the floor with a thud. He cried out in frustration.

“As you can obviously see, though doubtfully care, I am indisposed and would appreciate some privacy. Whatever you are here about so early in the bloody morning, it can surely wait,” he gritted through his teeth, still not looking at Snape.

In a few smooth steps, Snape positioned himself above Remus, who was sitting pitifully on the floor. Remus kept his head bowed, aware of the other mans eyes scrutinizing Remus’ bare back, and the pattern of fresh wounds and old scars that ornamented his skin. Then Remus felt a cold hand on his shoulder. He flinched, and whipped his head around to see Snape crouched next to him.

“Don’t touch me!” Remus snarled with flashing eyes. His pulse surged, and a low growl stuck in his throat. 

Snape retracted his hand, but furrowed his eyebrows and remained close to Remus. “How long have the characteristics of the beast been lingering since we started the Potion?”

Caught off guard by the question, Remus stared blankly back at the Potions professor. He shook his head as if attempting to clear it, his breathing still heavily. “I don’t…know. A day after the moon, two at the most?” he guessed. 

"Not enough aconite," Snape mumbled, withdrawing himself completely and standing, poised to leave. "We can fix that, and reduce your recovery time." Snape paused, and then said, "It would be useful to me if you could articulate more promptly any complications, Lupin. I don’t read minds."

Remus was cold again, and he shivered. "What was it you said before we started all of this? 'You are merely a convenience, Lupin, and whichever benefits you may get from this partnership are of no importance to me,'" Remus recited, doing his best to drawl out the syllables.

Snape appraised Remus again. He eyes tarried on Remus' wounds before he turned for the final time and fled from the room.

 

**February 6, 1994**

“Oranges?” Remus raised an eyebrow and sniffed the goblet again. 

Snape didn’t look up from the stacks of parchment he was sifting. “I have been experimenting with ways to cancel the stronger effects of the aconite while still preserving the undertone qualities, and citrus has been showing the most promise.” He spoke with a dry, scientific air that Remus identified as manufactured indifference. 

Remus contemplated the steaming potion warily, swirling the contents of the goblet and breathing the scent in deeply. “The most promise?” he asked.

“I have tweaked the composition only slightly, and my research dictates that the potion should still function as we have come to expect.” Severus intoned quietly, setting the parchments aside and appraising Lupin from across the desk. “If you desire more reassurance from me about the effectiveness of this deviation, I cannot offer it.”

The werewolf nodded, and did not want to push the subject. “Thank you again, Severus. I’ll let you get back to your work.” Remus started for the exit, but Snape closed the door with a lazy flick of his wand.

“I’ll have you drink it here and now, Lupin. You’ve got enough of my goblets in your office, I should think you have your sights on my entire set,” Snape drawled. “Returning a few of them now and again would be overly laborious, yes?”

Remus flushed with guilt, but he was determined not to show it. He turned a shoulder to Snape and began to drink the potion. He started with small sips, and had nearly finished when something surged deep within his stomach.

Remus’ heartbeat picked up speed, and his breath caught in the back of his throat. His vision hazed and blurred. Holding his chest with one hand, Remus lurched forward to steady himself on the bookshelf by the door. It was at that point that his knees gave out, and the cup he had been clutching slipped and clattered to the floor.

Snape was there in an instant, shouldering Remus’ weight deftly. “Breathe,” he instructed calmly. “Keep breathing. And if you intend to vomit, please consider the bin and not my robes.”

Remus closed his eyes, willing himself to focus on anything and everything that wasn’t the growing nausea. This included Snape’s right hand, which was currently gripping Remus’ waist, and also Snape’s left hand, which was supporting Remus’ back. These thoughts, Remus concluded, were not helpful in slowing his heartbeat.

“I’m okay,” he wheezed. The colors, even in the dim dungeon chamber, were too bright and he opened his eyes slowly. “I apologize, I don’t know what that was,” Remus said lamely while shaking his head, and Snape eased up on his grip. Remus stumbled on still weak knees and seized Snape’s shoulders. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled again. 

Snape did not respond immediately. Shorter than Remus by a few inches, he looked up at the werewolf with furrowed eyebrows. “Perhaps the citrus was not the best option. Perhaps mint or dark tea would have produced a more favorable response,” he murmured, and Remus felt hot breath on his exposed neck. 

“Perhaps,” Remus agreed. “But why? Why alter what works? You said it before, this potion is not supposed to act as a cure. The change will always be difficult.”

Snape deposited Remus on a chair beside the bookshelf, and then bent to collect the stack of parchment he had been working on from his desk. He turned to regard Remus. Something flicked behind Snape’s black eyes. He looked tired, and pained. “It is not a cure. But you shouldn’t have to suffer,” he said simply. 

The papers crinkled in his hands, and in another dramatic whirl of his black robes, Snape exited the room.


End file.
